I Swear Rarely, I Swear
Another imported blog – don’t worry, I won’t be repeating myself forever. (HA – every old person says that one, over and over.) I just know the following will be of extreme interest to anyone who has ever had the urge to swear. And if you aren’t one of those people, where the $%&@ are you from, Mars?
When we lived in Inuvik my husband had a dog team which he struggled mightily to control. It was a frustrating hobby that turned out to be way more work than he ever imagined. Another seemingly random observation – Inuvik was the dustiest muddiest place we ever lived in. One day in Inuvik my daughter and I had the following conversation:
Mommy, god-damn is a really bad word. (Yes it is, and telling me that is not really an acceptable way to get away with saying it.) Little kids should NEVER say god-damn. (No, they shouldn’t, so would you please stop saying it?) But its okay for dads to say god-damn. (And why is it okay for dads?) Because there’s GOD-DAMN MUD and GOD-DAMN DOGS!! She sounded just like him.
It was a very rare occurance when we grew up to hear a swear word uttered by either of our parents. If dad ever let one slip within our hearing we were suitably astounded and I know I could only manage to gape at him in disbelief. To think that he actually knew that word was one thing. To hear him utter it was such a rare and unheard of thing that it gave the word intense power.
My grandson gets very upset if I say the word ’stupid’. It’s a bad bad word that he is not allowed to use. Isn’t that stupid?? And the other day my grand daughter told me all about the word ‘crap.’ It was like deja-vu with the god-damn lecture.
Crap is not a nice word, but sometimes you can say it and its okay. (Nope, crap isn’t a very nice word.) But grandma, its okay to say it if you’re feeling really sick. You can say, mommy, I feel like crap. (Ah. I see.) But if your mom looks at you and says you LOOK like crap, then its a bad word. (I totally get your point.) Choose your words wisely mom.
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About
(Umbrella - by Existrance/deviant art)
This is where I come to talk to myself by dredging up an old photograph or a memory and beating it to death with my keyboard. One day all this blather will be treasured by my progeny. Deluded as that notion might be, it’s what keeps me here. Just to clarify things a little, no part of my past or present life was ever spent actually living on a sidewalk. Life in the fast lane would have been a big fat lie; life on a skinny railing high above the railroad tracks with an umbrella at dawn – damn. Didn’t think of that one fast enough. But it’s sometimes how life feels. Precariously tense, but insanely fun.
